


Potential Fallen

by PhoenixDragon



Series: The Unthinkable Verse [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, Dark, Introspection, M/M, Slash, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon





	Potential Fallen

  
** _ The Unthinkable Series _ **

****

 

**'Potential Fallen'**  
 **_____________________________________________________________________**  
 **A/N:** Written for [](http://who-contest.livejournal.com/profile)[**who_contest**](http://who-contest.livejournal.com/) 's **Prompt:[Blaze](http://who-contest.livejournal.com/221431.html)**.  
 **A/N 2:** Here at long last (after two years of inexcusable hiatus), is the Third Interlude to this Verse. I can only claim that Rory and the Doctor weren't ready to talk throughout this long stretch of time - and even as I knew how the story went - I didn't want to force the issue and give less than the best for this fiction. This piece is (for lack of better descriptions) my heart and soul laid to pages. I have no idea why this is so, but I do not question it. I can only hope that this Interlude was well worth the wait - but as always, I leave that to you, Dear Reader, to decide. (To those who are only reading for [](http://who-contest.livejournal.com/profile)[**Who Contest**](http://who-contest.livejournal.com/), I will say you do not need to read the previous chapters and timestamps to read this entry. Just know that Amy was lost to them and they are making their way as best as they can within broken timelines.)

**[All Other Parts, Warnings and Disclaimers to be found at the Masterpost](http://a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com/754787.html) **   
**_____________________________________________________________________**  


  


** ~Third Interlude~ **

The stars burned softly above – bright, heavy and no less diminished by the purple black they were nestled in; a kaleidoscope-riot of singing color and muted light. They neither overwhelmed, nor were they lost in the mantle of quiet night. Just a perfect starry sky on an unknown planet in an equally (to Rory anyway), unknown sector of space. Everything was still aside from a slight ruffle of night-breezes in the tree-tops above, the dance of the fire at his feet. The quiet was pervasive, almost bone-deep, bringing with it a feeling of peace and solitude, even as Rory was anything but alone.

Though (in so many, many ways), that was questionable, even as it was undeniable.

“The devil loves a noble man,” was the soft murmur from beside him, the whisper of sound practically lost behind the pop and crackle of the bonfire not but four feet from them. “Honesty is his music, virtue his vice and the innocent are but potential fallen before him.”

Rory said nothing, the warmth of the fire making him sleepy-stupid, yet the very _feel_ of the evening they were wrapped in left him more awake and alive than he felt he had been for years. The Doctor’s voice was startling, even as it mingled with the noises of the bonfire, the murmuring of the trees above. Whenever he spoke now, Rory listened – his riddles filled with layered meaning, answers to questions Rory could never ask and the Doctor (as he was now), could never understand.

Moments like these were happy and sad all at the same time. Moments when the Doctor chattered and prattled and rushed and ran were like coming home, even as Rory knew they would never last long. He tried, the Doctor did – he tried to be the Doctor Rory once knew (the one Amy loved) – but Rory didn’t quite see the point in many respects. It was just them now; just them and even as they stumbled on as best as they could, there was really no one to pretend for. Not anymore.

But there were times (well, most of the time), that Rory waited for moments just like these. Those rare times when the Doctor would be cryptic and open, lost in the man he had been before they had lost everything but each other. It tugged at Rory’s heart, but it made him smile, too. Because in those moments, they were just Rory and the Doctor. They never really forgot, but the remembering became easier.

A minute or two passed and the Doctor didn’t say anything else, his face closed off, his eyes distant as he stared into the fire he'd had Rory sonic into being earlier. He didn’t seem to even realize he had said anything at all – and Rory could feel the peace that had slipped over him falling away, dread sitting low in his gut. The quiet happiness of moments before felt like a stilted illusion, a child’s dream of serenity.

It was too soon. He had been hoping that this stopover would bring a little life back to the Doctor, even as it was a frivolous trip that would (in the Doctor’s eyes), accomplish nothing. Though aside from a few confused questions, the Doctor’d had little to say about this outing at all. He had just accepted it and let Rory lead the way, a switch-off from the mad dashing about he had been doing the last few weeks, each excursion more worrying than the last, even as Rory soaked up those Doctor-moments like they were water in the Sahara.

Rory had no idea of what the Doctor was wanting to accomplish with their random patterns of late; the Doctor was certainly not very forthcoming with even the slightest iota of information. Rory didn’t want to push him though, so he let it lie.

But as the Doctor slipped from his grasp by slow degrees, he wondered if pushing was the better idea after all.

“Was that a poem?” Rory finally asked, not daring to speak above a soft exhalation as it might spook his companion. “That statement about honesty and virtue – ”

“You are a noble man, Rory Williams,” the Doctor said firmly, his eyes never leaving the fire, even as his hand found Rory’s, fingers chilly and stiff under Rory’s touch, his grasp tight and startling in the fact he was even touching Rory at all. “You are a noble man and I am the devil.”

Rory could do nothing but gawp at him, his own fingers slack in the Doctor’s tentative grip, his nerves singing that something was going wrong again – even as the Doctor tilted his head to smile serenely at him, his face still too gray and thin for Rory’s liking. He felt sorrow and love pull the breath out of his lungs, his own mouth trying to smile, though everything else within felt like crying.

The Doctor’s gaze was clear, his features open in the flickering light of the flames, leaving Rory more stunned and unsure of what to say. The Doctor was elusive when there was light. He would hide his face, mute his voice and withhold his touch. It wasn’t personal, Rory knew that much. It was almost as though he was more afraid _for_ Rory than he was of what they had become.

Rory wished he was less afraid. He also wished the Doctor would tell him why he was only alive (awake, aware, completely within reality) when it was dark and the night was silent.

He felt a fierce wave of pure feeling wash over him – indescribable, inexplicable, remotely fragile – and he tightened his slack grip on the Doctor’s hand, knowing that this moment was special in some way the Doctor would never (or could never) explain. He held onto the Doctor’s hand like it was an anchor, willing warmth into the interlacing of their fingers, trying to show the Doctor he was here, he would be as long as the Doctor allowed…and maybe even a good deal longer than that.

“How do you know I’m not the devil?” Rory asked, unsure of what he was saying, only knowing it was the right question. The crinkle of the Doctor’s eyes, the twitch of his smile told him he was correct, though those same eyes flickered with the grief neither of them could let go of, even if they had truly wanted to.

“Oh, Rory,” the Doctor said softly, his smile widening, his ancient eyes fathomless and warm – the tilt of his head denoting a fondness and deep longing that only the Doctor could ever manage. “How could I ever be noble?”

Rory answered the only way he could: kissing the knuckles of the hand wrapped tight within his own, hoping he could show him what the Doctor could never seem to hear. Maybe tonight he would, maybe he would even understand.

Maybe that’s why they were here, on this planet, caught within this timeless moment; just the two of them, no fear, no searching the sky for the airships that haunted them with every venture away from the TARDIS, no endless secrets to create a gulf that couldn’t be bridged. Maybe this was the key Rory had been looking for all these months; this segment of time, this small eternity clasped between them – a simple touch, an open smile in the light, even as they were surrounded by darkness.

Rory’s heart raced with the possibility, his nerves soothed, his resolve cemented at the fresh hope he (literally) held within this grip. He smiled at the Doctor, letting some of that hope bleed through, gratified and relieved when the Time Lord smiled back – the grief falling away for just a moment (so small, yet so big) – to show the old friend that Rory had been looking for ever since Amy had died.

Rory had missed that man, he knew he was there, but he only saw him in breathless, infinitesimal snatches of time. He missed what they had been, even as he wished he could have seen _then_ what was only possible _now_. He sometimes longed to turn back the clock (desperately, helplessly), but he couldn’t imagine losing what he had discovered. He hoped he never would, though he feared every day that this was what they were hurtling towards during the slow spin of hours within the blue box.

“How could you not?” Rory finally said, knowing it didn’t answer the question, even as it was the only answer he could possibly give. It certainly seemed to be the correct one, as the Doctor didn’t reply, though he leaned in close to him, allowing Rory to hold him in the light of the fire; their hands still clasped loosely between them, clinging together like lost, tired children.

They sat that way for a long, long time: the hushed gleam of the stars above faded into dawn, the crackle of the fire at their feet long turned to ash. This eye-blink within the fabric of their reality slowly weaving a place deep within Rory’s heart – a bauble he could look upon when the days were long, the nights filled with grief and terror. He prayed those days were over.

Yet even as the spark of what they were blazed into a supernova (too much and not enough all at once, the light eaten only by the darkness behind it), he knew he would be proven wrong.

What he didn’t know (and could barely guess at), was that it could be so much worse. The hand he held in his own the one that would lift them above the stars, even as it plunged the Doctor into the depths. All Rory could do was hold tightly, remember, fight to keep the Doctor at his side for as long as he could…and hope it was enough.  



End file.
